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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28679193">(i swear that i would) pull you from the tide</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/sugaplumvisions/pseuds/sugaplumvisions'>sugaplumvisions</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The Black Tapes Podcast</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Disabled Character, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Panic Attacks, Past Child Abuse, Richard Strand Needs a HUG</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-01-10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-01-10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-13 06:14:37</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,077</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28679193</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/sugaplumvisions/pseuds/sugaplumvisions</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Strand finally snaps on Tannis Braun, and it brings up a host of emotions. Alex is there to break his fall.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Alex Reagan/Richard Strand</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>29</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>(i swear that i would) pull you from the tide</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>A very happy TBTP Holiday Gift Exchange to my dear friend existentialterror on tumblr!!! I hope you like it &lt;3 </p><p>It also comes with a playlist! </p><p>https://open.spotify.com/playlist/6isg8SA1RT7DrvFYa5vJdf?si=YnTcfN-gTW-8proDian3uQ</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>“You punched Tannis Braun,” Alex says, voice flat. “You </span>
  <em>
    <span>punched</span>
  </em>
  <span> Tannis Braun.” The disbelief creeps in, then. The sheer shock factor of cool, collected Strand punching a medium in the face is just too much for her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, I punched a tree,” Strand says, annoyingly deadpan as ever despite the blood streaming from his nose and his knuckles. “He happened to dodge.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And then fight back!” Alex says. Her voice rises in pitch as she continues. “So what, you get punched in the woods and you call me up like ‘Hey, Alex, I got punched in the woods, come rescue me’?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t believe I said ‘Hey, Alex,’ nor did I imply I needed rescuing.” Strand’s voice is on a knife’s edge, taut and strained. “I don’t like my investigations infringed upon by wayward mediums.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So I should take my first aid kit and just...leave? You </span>
  <em>
    <span>broke</span>
  </em>
  <span> your </span>
  <em>
    <span>nose.</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Technically, he broke my nose,” Strand corrects. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> Alex rolls her eyes. She takes a step closer, and her voice softens. “You can’t just...You can’t do this to me, okay? Don’t pull this bullshit. You need someone right now.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Strand shrugs. “Maybe.” There’s some kind of undercurrent beneath his words, something dark and deep. “I got what was coming to me.” The statement doesn’t sound like it comes from him, rather, like he’s repeating something he’s heard time and time and time again. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Alex flashes back to the holes in the wall of his father’s house, to the way Strand walks with a cane and moves stiffly when the weather turns cold. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Strand’s pupils are blown wide, and Alex realizes what’s happening. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Richard,</span>
  </em>
  <span>” she says. “Eyes on me.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The gray in Strand’s eyes is all but consumed by panic-wide pupils. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Here,” Alex says. She reaches out a hand, and Strand takes it with his right hand, the one without bloody knuckles. “Is this okay?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Strand flinches, just half a moment of a touch-averse twitch, but then relaxes. His hand is cold. His hands are always cold. Alex absentmindedly worries about his circulation. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We’re going to my car,” she says, instead of commenting on his frigid hands. “Can you do that?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Strand’s hand relaxes in hers. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m not a child, Alex. I can walk to the car.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re having a panic attack,” Alex says. The blood from Strand’s nose is beginning to slow. “Come on, you’re doing great. You probably won’t even need a hospital. Might not even mess up your pretty face.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Strand chuckles, but it’s without any mirth. “You think I have a pretty face?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Alex huffs. “We can talk about that when you’re not losing blood.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You just said I was doing well.” But there’s no teeth behind it, and Strand follows her to the car. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sit,” she says, leading him to the passenger seat. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ll try not to bleed on the upholstery,” Strand says quietly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“God!” Alex says. “You’ve been punched in the nose and you’re worried about the upholstery?” She frowns at him, and immediately regrets how strident her words came out. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Strand’s eyes are faraway again. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to--” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m going to get my first aid kit,” Alex says. “I’ll be right back. You sit tight.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Strand’s hand clenches hers and then releases. “I’m perfectly capable of--” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re not thinking rationally right now.” Alex tries to school her face into a perfectly neutral expression, realizing that any displeasure on it could be read as a threat in Strand’s fragile state. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He brought up my father,” Strand says. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Bastard,” Alex says, rummaging in her trunk. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Who? Tannis or--” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Alex comes back with the first aid kit and holds out her hand. “Both of them. Hand. Gimme.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m perfectly capable of--” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s your dominant hand,” Alex says. “Let me wrap it, okay?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Strand huffs. “If you insist.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He’s silent as Alex winds the gauze over his long, elegant fingers. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You could’ve been a pianist in another life,” Alex says. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Strand shrugs with his right shoulder. “I was never much good at music. Not for lack of trying, but it was another way in which I couldn’t toe the line.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He’s quiet again. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What’s going on in that head of yours?” Alex finally asks, running her fingers over the back of his hand. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You should tape that before it comes unwound,” Strand says. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Right. That’s what you’re thinking. Tape.” She looks into his eyes, still cupping his injured hand between hers. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Strand sighs. His eyes go glassy. “How am I a better man than him if I can’t hold my own temper?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Alex sighs to match. Her shoulders sag. “Oh, Richard…” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t tell me it’s different, because it isn’t.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re telling me being provoked is no different than hitting a </span>
  <em>
    <span>child?” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Alex asks. She squeezes his hand just a little between hers. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You didn’t know me as a child. I could be very…provocative.” His fingers twitch. His free hand clenches whiteknuckled. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Alex bristles. “You were a </span>
  <em>
    <span>child,</span>
  </em>
  <span> Richard. He signed up for any...ugh...</span>
  <em>
    <span>provocation</span>
  </em>
  <span> when he decided to bring a defenseless human being into the world.” She spits the word “provocation” like it’s done her a deep wrong. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He was my father. He had a right to--” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Treat you well. Not beat you. Listen to yourself!” Alex’s eyes are locked on Strand’s, but he won’t meet her gaze. “What would you have said if someone had done that to literally any other child? God forbid, Charlie, even.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“If anyone had hurt Charlie, I would still be in prison,” Strand says matter-of-factly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Alex sets her chin. “If your father were still alive, so would I.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hm,” Strand says. He takes a deep breath, then looks at her. “Thank you, Alex.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah,” Alex says. She releases the pressure on his hand, and rewraps the places where the gauze had come loose. “Of course.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>They hold each other’s eyes for a long moment. Alex is the first one to look away. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I should, uh, tape these.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thank you,” Strand says, only a murmur. “Really.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Anytime, Richard.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Alex’s phone goes off and the moment breaks. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Nic?” she says. “No, I didn’t get kidnapped. Aren’t you more likely to....No, Nic, I mean it! You’re the...ugh, okay, fine. I’m alive, Dr. Strand’s alive, everyone’s alive. No, it was not a bait call. NIC!” She sighs. “Goodbye. Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do. Yeah yeah me neither. Bye.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She sighs and looks at Strand. “We should...talk. More. Sometime.”  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes,” Strand says, quietly. “We should.” </span>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
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